


Boo At The Zoo

by alchemystique



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemystique/pseuds/alchemystique
Summary: Halloween 2016 has it's usual superheroes, Disney princesses, and Star Wars costumes, but this year the Ginny Baker costume dominates pretty much everything. Mike has feelings about that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtvoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtvoc/gifts).



“Tell me why, exactly, I’m doing this Halloween with the Animals thing again?”  


“It’s called Boo At the Zoo, Baker, and it’s a goddamn tradition, so you’re gonna grit your teeth and bear it. Do it with a smile on your face.”  


The way her lips slide across her teeth is more of a grimace than anything else, but Mike ignores it. Of the two of them, Mike had never expected to be the one who became over enthusiastic about anything, but here they were - half the team wrangled in by Mike’s this-is-not-a-negotiation speech about helping out the community, spending the third weekend of their off season riding a bus to the zoo like a bunch of twelve-year-olds. 

Not making it into the post season hadn’t exactly been great for team morale, and usually Mike would walk it off, let everyone stew for a while, but he’d spent the first week off being told by no less than a thousand doctors (Sue him, he exaggerates. It’s his thing. Another one of his things.) one obnoxious fact - his knees are shot, his back is only going to get worse, and if he makes it to forty without surgery they’ll personally name him a miracle of modern medicine. And instead of stewing in that delicious pot of angst and self loathing, Mike had decided to try team building activities instead. 

He’s ignoring it. In major denial. Completely unhealthy, what he’s doing, but hey, he actually saw Duarte smile five minutes ago, so at least there’s that.

“Boo At The Zoo. Seriously, old man?”

“It’s cute, and there are going to be hundreds of single moms, ripe for the picking. I’m a home town hero, Baker, do you know how much action I get for this kind of shit?” She raises an amused eyebrow at that, which is great, because ever since he and Amelia broke things off there’s been a weird tension between him and Baker that he’s pretending doesn’t exist, and on a completely unrelated note he has absolutely zero desire to hook up with anyone who doesn’t wear a 43 on her back or call him at one in the morning to give him shit about whatever random thing her mind came up with between the bar they’d just left and her hotel bed.  


_Fuck me sideways,_ he thinks to himself.

“Two weeks ago half of San Diego was convinced you and I lost them a World Series run.”  


“I’m sure it’s run its course by now.”  


Baker gives him a strained look and throws her headphones back over her ears. 

\------

Amelia had been pissed when she found out Mike hadn’t included her in his plans, and so as an olive branch he’d offered to let her help out, which, in hindsight, was probably poorly thought out on his part. She wants them in costume. 

Mike’s heart jumps into his throat when he catches sight of what she’s got in the works for Baker, but his rookie merely blinks at her agent for a moment before gesturing to her backpack. “Already got one.”

“Oh, but-.”  


But Baker has already wandered off, and Mike throws a silent thanks to the heavens that he’s not about to be put through the the hell of seeing Ginny Baker in whatever overly revealing costume Amelia had deemed appropriate for the occasion. Not _too_ revealing, he’s sure, because Amelia has no desire to shoot herself in the foot now that the leaked picture scandal has mostly been tossed aside for more scandalous things, but Mike prefers Baker in layers. Lots and lots of layers. Anything to keep him from thinking about all that glimmering skin and tight muscle and unfairly long legs she’s got hiding under her uniform.

“I’ve got yours,” Amelia recovers, and Mike stares at her.  


“I’ve already got mine too. ‘Washed up has been ball player’. Don’t even need to change.”  


They both cringe, and she gives him a tight little smile. “Put on the damn costume, Mike, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got at least one more season in you.”

He takes the dry cleaner bag she holds out for him without complaint.

\------

Blip is cackling when he comes out of the changing room, and for a second Mike assumes it’s directed at him, but he quickly hones in on Miller, who is apparently still being punished for the TMZ photos from the weekend. Like the woman he’d been caught going tongue-to-tongue with Friday night, Tommy is dressed as Ginny Baker, down to the curly hair pulled through the back of his baseball cap. Thankfully for them all, this costume, unlike the one his date had been wearing on Friday, did not look like it had been bought at a porn shop. He’s seen enough of Tommy Miller to last him a lifetime, he doesn’t need to subject the rest of San Diego to it.

Mike is suddenly thankful he hasn’t pissed off Amelia lately - his own costume, while amusing, is fairly toned down. He has a sneaking suspicion this one was all Baker - camo vest, a black thermal shirt, heavy boots, and a bandana he has to admit he kinda rocks. Probably helps that he hasn’t cut his hair in months, but he thinks he pulls off “Duck Dynasty Cousin” pretty well.

He takes in the amusing scene before him for a moment, happy to see the team seems to actually be enjoying themselves, and misses Baker’s entrance. 

It doesn’t take him long to notice her, though - someone lets out a wolf whistle that catches everyone’s attention, and a moment later he’s groaning, and wondering if he can convince Amelia to force her own choice in costume on Baker.

She’s dressed as him. Jesus fucking - down to the thumb tucked into her belt loop and the gum in her mouth, even her _grin_ is the same cocksure smirk he’s sure he’s done a thousand times, But it’s the beard that does it. He doesn’t know where she found the monstrosity on her face or why the hell it bugs him that he can’t see the line of her jaw or the dimple of her cheek (Lie. He knows exactly why), but he feels thoroughly mocked and annoyed with himself for not seeing this coming. 

His first thought is “This is how I die.” The second is “Also not how I thought I’d see Ginny Baker in my jersey for the first time.”

Mike decides then and there that he is never, ever, trying to cheer up his team, ever, ever again.

\------

Baker and Miller tweet a picture of the two of them that gets retweeted twenty thousand times before the zoo even opens up for the evening. 

Coordinators are quick to inform him that they expect a record turnout this year, and Mike smiles and nods even as he vows never to do this again, because he keeps getting glimpses of Baker wandering around with his number on her back and that is _definitely_ not his ass on display below the 36 he’s spent his career wearing.

Christ.

\------

It doesn’t take long for them to spot a theme going on. Mike hadn’t wanted this to be a huge media event, so mostly they’re just free to wander their little area of the zoo, and amidst a few Kylo Ren’s and a larger number of Rey’s, some hold out Elsa’s and a slew of superheroes, there have got to be about a thousand Ginny Baker’s wandering the place.

The first time Baker saw one of them, Mike had to take a moment to compose himself - watching her bend down on a smile, lips stretching over her teeth as the little girl stared at her in awe - even through the ridiculous beard Ginny Baker was awe inspiring - Mike had felt a rush of _something_ he wasn’t ready to name.

Of course, he wasn’t allowed to leave it alone for long. They hadn’t stopped - toddlers and ten-year-olds and grinning teenagers had all managed to find Ginny amidst the chaos for a few minutes in her space, and it’s not like he can blame them, all he ever seems to want to do anymore is spend time with Ginny Baker, but. But it’s making him wonder what his kid would look like, if he ever ended up having one, making him wonder what color her eyes would be, what her nose would look like, what kind of smile she’d have - and he has to tamp down the immediate desire to get on his phone and order one of every fucking size of that costume for this non existent kid that he’s definitely not picturing with dark curly hair and dimples.

“Oh honey,” Evelyn says when she swings by with the twins and catches the look he’s shooting Baker’s way.  


“Sorry, all out. You want granola muncher treats, you shoulda gone to San Francisco.”  


The twins are already elbow deep in the candy bag he’s holding, but Evelyn doesn’t seem to care. “I’ve seen that look exactly once on your face before, Mike Lawson, and I’m telling you right now if you mess this up, I will end you.”

That’s enough to snap him back to reality. 

“You’re seeing things.”  


“Yeah, I’m seeing you shoot puppy eyes. Lock it down, Lawson. Neither one of you is ready for that.”  


He wants to deny it, wants to tell her she has no idea what she’s talking about, but the twins have found their father in the crowd and have already sprinted off, so instead all he gets is Evelyn sending him a hard look over her shoulder as she follows the boys over to Blip.

He’s fucked. Six ways from Sunday. 

\------

Somehow, Tommy ends up wrangling them all to a bar, after the crowds have thinned out and the hashtag #ginnyismyboo has trended on twitter for three hours. 

“I thought “#bakertreat” was better,” Miller had told them all, to which no one had had a response other than to throw candy corn at him.  


Somehow, he finds himself in a booth seat with Duarte and Baker on his left, where they’re trading stories about the night, and he nurses his beer while Blip gives him a stony look across the table. Baker had taken off the beard at some point, and gotten rid of the cap she’d tucked her hair under, and he’s having a hard time figuring out when the healthy respect he’d had for a woman who’d taken on so much and handled it with grace had morphed into...something else.

Probably around the same time he’d been unable to go to sleep without the nighttime ritual of calling up his rookie just to shoot the shit.

Probably.

Maybe.

The music changes, and Ginny whoops appreciatively at the song, her whole body buzzing like she’s trying hard to keep her urge to get up in check. It’s a horrible song, loud and incomprehensible with an electric beat, and Mike isn’t sure what overtakes him - the impending mortality of his knees, the way Duarte’s attention focuses in on Ginny so carefully, the sudden image he has of Ginny Baker grinning at a teenage girl in a 43 jersey holding a baseball in her hand and looking like her life was complete - Mike slides out of the booth and makes direct eye contact with her, ignoring her surprise. “C’mon, rookie, you’re gonna vibrate right out of your seat if you don’t get to dance soon.

“I’m sorry, are you offering to dance with me?”  


“I’m offering to stand, sway awkwardly, and drink my beer while you dance. It’s the best offer you’re gonna get in this crowd.”  


She’s on her feet a second later, downing the rest of her own beer, and somehow her hand is in his as she drags him across the bar to where a sizeable group has already formed. 

She’s bright and wild and exuberant, grinning and twisting and turning as she drags him deeper into the crowd of people, and only once they’re firmly entrenched in the melee does she drop his hand. 

Mike clenches his hand into a fist at the loss of contact only to get an armful of Ginny Baker a second later, her arms coming up to rest on his shoulders as her grin fades into something a little more serious. 

“You should know, Livan’s a _great_ dancer!” she tells him, and Mike fights back a groan, because she has to lean close to his ear in order to be heard, and when his hand creeps up her back to try and get his bearings, he can feel the edges of the number on her jersey.  


“Didn’t see him offering,” he tells her on a shrug, and his eyes track the way she tilts her head, the look she gives him that tells him he’s transparent as fuck.  


“Well, I appreciate this completely selfless sacrifice you’re making,” she tells him, and he can tell by the look on her face that the way her hips are swaying is the exact opposite of accidental.  


“You know me,” Mike responds on a shrug, and is completely unprepared for the way her gaze softens.  


She’s going to kill him. 

“Yeah,” is all she says, eyes steady on his face, and she tugs on the end of his beard affectionately. This cannot happen. In fact, he’s positive, right now, even as he’s picturing the way this look on her face would play out with her hair spread out across the pillows on his bed - he’s sure it won’t happen. She’s got too much riding on this team, on her own reputation in the game - he’s already seen the shit they pulled on her when Davis’ pictures leaked. He won’t do that to her.  


But.

But he’ll take this moment, and the way she’s looking at him right now. 

And when he gets home, he’s ordering at least half a dozen Baker jerseys.


End file.
